


we've built a home

by skamz



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: "help i AM in love", "help i think i'm in love", Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, M/M, Pining, also this is not quite as? fluffy? as i thought it would be?, and it ends well of course, and then like, but there is fluff of course, this is basically 6k words of isak being like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skamz/pseuds/skamz
Summary: Isak can do this. He can manage to not fall for his new roommate. It's fine, it's all good, it's doable.(It's not.)Or: after a bad breakup, Isak moves in with his new roommate, Even. He tries not to fall for him, and fails.





	we've built a home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [infiniteisaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteisaks/gifts).



> first of all: HAPPY BDAY AGAIN [MEGHA](http://infiniteisaks.tumblr.com/)
> 
> this ended up being a day late because 1) life and 2) this wasn't supposed to get this long?? it got a little out of control dfjdsdnjks
> 
> anyway i just hope!! that you'll enjoy it :)(thatswhatshedeserves.jpg) you're incredibly sweet and SMART and you're going to keep doing great things this year, i just know it, and i'm proud of you, and just thank you for being so nice and great always. 

There are things in life that Isak is naturally good at. He's good at science, at understanding and explaining it, which is one of the things he likes the most about himself and is the proudest of. He's good at mental arithmetic and fast reading and he can juggle a football for a long time and he knows how to make great pancakes, for some reason (he doesn't even  _like_ pancakes all that much). 

Isak is also apparently an expert at falling for the wrong guys.

First, there had been Jonas. Because why fall for literally  _any_  other guy when you can fall for your unattainable best friend who also happens to be dating your other close friend?

Then, there had been Lars, who at least had the merit of being attainable. Enough so that Isak had dated him and had actually moved in with him, when the lease for the apartment he used to live in had come to an end. Lars had been a pretty decent boyfriend, pretty decent in the kitchen and in bed and pretty intelligent and pretty funny and also just  _pretty_ , and it had been nice, to have someone to share life with, to be intimate with, to not be alone with.

It had all been just  _great_  until Isak had discovered that Lars also happened to be a cheating bastard.

Which lead Isak to his current—

_Situation._

To wrong guy of the moment: Even.

After catching Lars with another guy in their own fucking bed, Isak had moved out of this place that he had actually ( _Jesus_ ) allowed himself to consider as a home. He had stayed at Eva's for a little while after, because her house had been big enough and her mother had been away for most of the month. Still, Isak had hated the idea of taking up space in a place that wasn't his and potentially overstaying his welcome, so he had quickly started searching for a new place to stay.

Fast forward to two months ago, and Isak was moving into his current apartment, with his current roommate.

Even.

And it's not that there's something wrong with Even. It's that it's actually quite the contrary. Even is funny and smart and kind and interesting and so damn good looking. He's—

He's perfect.

Isak hasn't actually sought this, okay? When he first met Even the day he came to visit the apartment, he had wanted to turn around and walk away. He might have been heartbroken and his motto of the moment might have been something along the lines of  _Fuck dating and having feelings for guys_   _forever and even after that_ but he still had  _eyes_ , and one look at Even had been enough to make Isak feel like he could potentially fall for him, especially if he was going to live with him. Which was the last thing he wanted, the last thing he needed—to fall for another guy and risk getting his heart broken again. To have to move out again. 

But the problem was that there weren't really any other rooms near the university that were both available in the middle of March and within his budget. 

_So._

Isak had ended up moving in with Even, telling himself that if he simply set well-defined boundaries between them and respected those, if he simply remained a decent roommate while still keeping his distance, then maybe this could work out just fine.

And it had worked, initially. It had worked especially well because he'd force himself to remember Lars, to remember the heartache, to remember all the times he had to pack up and leave, and that had been sobering enough.

But there came a time when it didn't quite work as well anymore.

It's just—

It's the fact that Even sings when he gets ready in the morning, off-key but cheerful, and the fact that Isak doesn't really want to ask him to stop. It's the fact that he introduces Isak to homemade popcorn and Tuesday movie nights and the fact that Isak runs out of excuses to avoid them, doesn't want to try to come up with new ones. It's the fact that he noticed the way Isak drinks his coffee (with a splash of milk and way too much sugar), and now he makes it for him every single morning. It's the fact that he'll invite his friends over some nights and Isak will stay in his room to give them space, but after only a week Even notices, and tells him that he's more than welcome to hang out with them, but only if he feels like it.

It's the way he laughs, head cocked to the side a little and crinkles around his eyes. It's the way his glasses frame his eyes, and the fact that Isak sometimes gets to see him take them off at the end of the day, his eyes a little tired but still so blue, still so beautiful. It's the way he bites his lips when he reads, when he writes and draws, when he seems lost in his thoughts sometimes. It's the way he smells, the perfume he sprays on himself that lingers in the bathroom for a little while after he leaves in the morning, but also this smell when they're both sitting at the kitchen table or on the same couch, the one that's just him.

It's the little things, and it's also all of him, it seems.

It's just that he keeps doing things like:

Isak stays up to write his physics paper, not getting one minute of sleep and when he goes to the kitchen, he's met with the smell of freshly baked goods.

"Hey, good morning," Even greets him.

"'Morning."

"Help yourself," he says, nodding toward the plate of muffins on the table.

"Oh, nice. Thank you."

Even smiles at him, and today isn't really all that bad, after all.

Isak is exhausted, but he's also really hungry, because energy drinks aren't the most filling thing, so he grabs a muffin, and when he brings it to his mouth, he notices the smell.

Banana muffins. With chocolate chips.

His favorite.

"You—" he starts, not actually meaning to say the word out loud.

"I?" Even asks, huffing out a small laugh as Isak keeps staring at the muffin. "You two need a moment or something?" he teases.

"I get these all the time," Isak says, almost to himself.

"Yeah," Even nods. "I saw some at KB, but making them yourself is just so much cheaper, and now we have, like, enough for the week."

_We._

It's just muffins, it should be  _just muffins_ , but Isak is left speechless.

(It's not just muffins.)

"So, did you manage to finish your paper?" Even asks, and it doesn't sound like he's making small talk. It never sounds like he's making small talk, it always sounds like he cares.

Isak nods, yawning, and Even yawns back, which makes them both laugh a little.

"I'm gonna go hand it in and...come right back to bed," Isak says, and it's actually difficult to keep his eyes fully open.

Even frowns. "Why don't you just e-mail it?"

Isak shakes his head. "He wants us to print it out."

"That's weird."

"Right?"

Isak rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he stands up. "Anyway, I better go now if I want to print it on time. Thank you again, really, for, hm." He lifts the hand in which he's holding his half-finished muffin.

He's about to leave the kitchen to go put his coat and boots on and head straight to school, still in his pajama pants and without brushing his hair, because, honestly, looking presentable is the last of his concerns right now, when Even says:

"Wait!"

Isak turns toward him, a questioning look in his eyes.

"I was about to head to uni, I could hand it in for you?"

Isak opens his mouth, but remains silent. His heart is beating harder in his chest and his knees feel a little weak, and it's not because of the lack of sleep. "But—"

 _That's too much_ , his mind says, screams.

He swallows. "You don't have to," he says at last, and it feels like he has to push the words out.

Even smiles at him, warm and sweet. "I know I don't," he replies. "But you going all the way there when you're this tired, even though I'm already going doesn't seem...reasonable, I think."

Isak crosses his arms, hugging himself a little. "Okay," he says.

 

When Isak is back in his room, he sends Even a Dropbox link to his paper. 

> _**Isak Valtersen** _
> 
> _Thank you again_
> 
> _Very muc_
> 
> _Much_
> 
> _Like a lot_
> 
> _**Even Bech Næsheim** _
> 
> _:)_
> 
> _It's nothing_
> 
> _Sleep tight Isak_

He's perfect.

The thought keeps flashing through his mind as he finally gets to lie in his bed and pull the covers over himself. It never quite disappears, even after he closes his eyes, still flickering as he begins to fall asleep.

_He's perfect._

***

It's another late Monday evening in the living room, with Isak browsing through the internet a little mindlessly and Even in the middle of watching a movie.

Truth be told, Isak is mostly watching Even watch the movie.

(It really is just like any other late Monday evening in the living room.)

He recognizes the movie, this time, remembers Even watching it once before.

" _You work on commission, right? Big mistake. Big! Huge! I have to go shopping now_ ," Even says the lines along with Julia Roberts on the screen, and he seems fully invested. Isak can't help the small laugh that escapes him.

Even turns his head toward him, catches him looking. Isak immediately looks away. Fuck, he has to be more careful. 

 _Fuck_ , there's a need to be careful in the first place  _because_  he wantsto look at Even.

"It just never gets old," Even says. Isak dares to look in his direction again, and he's scratching the back of his head, and he looks adorably shy, suddenly. Isak's toes dig into the couch, a futile attempt to release the tension he feels everywhere else. "You know, when I was eleven, I wanted to—" 

"Marry Julia Roberts," Isak finishes. Shit, it slipped out. 

Even frowns. "Wait, what?" he asks. "How'd you guess?" 

"I didn't—" 

Even had told him, the last time he watched this movie.  _When I was eleven, I_ _wanted to marry Julia Roberts, and I wanted her to be the star in all my movies._

"You said it once," Isak says.

Even bites his lip, adjusting the glasses on his nose, and even through them, Isak can see the smile in his eyes. "You have the best memory," he says. 

Isak shrugs, pretending casualness he doesn't feel. 

It's not that Isak has the best memory. He perceives information and his brain will retain it a lot more easily if it's able to classify it into at least one of the following categories: information he cares about, information he's interested in, and information he thinks is important. 

It's not that Isak has the best memory. It's just that all the information that relates to Even always seems to fit into all three of these categories.

***

Isak isn't the biggest fan of his own birthday. He doesn't  _dislike_ it, but it's this day during which he finds himself reflecting on the previous 365, and on some birthdays, he doesn't really want to.

Sure, he managed to pass all his classes with good grades these past two semesters, and he supposes he's been a decent friend and a decent son, most of the time. But he had also spent a majority of this past year with Lars, and the last quarter pining over his roommate. And it's almost impossible, to try to concentrate on the good feelings and memories while simultaneously trying to disregard the bad ones. When he tries to only silence the latter, they all end up going mute. 

He has plans for tonight with his friends, though. They're going to this club they only go to on rare occasions because the drinks are way overpriced, but where they always end up having a good time. Isak tries his best to only look forward to that, to look forward to these upcoming 365 days. 

There's a knock on his door. 

He's about to tell Even to come in when he realizes that he's not wearing a shirt, which isn't a bad thing, per se—Isak  _knows_ he looks good shirtless, knows that Even would most likely notice, and maybe this could—

No.  _N_ _o._ This isn't a thing he's trying to make happen. 

He finds an old white t-shirt on the floor next to his bed. It has a hole on the left sleeve. Whatever. 

"Yes?" 

Even opens the door, and he has what seems to be a rolled poster under his arm, and in his hands he's holding—

Isak's chest tightens, because Even's holding a birthday cake, a homemade one, and it's so sweet, and he's so sweet, so sweet it almost hurts. 

"I'm not going to sing because I don't want to put you on the spot, and I'm not the best singer so it might be embarrassing, but, hm." He looks around Isak's room, seemingly searching for something to put the cake on, but the thing is that there isn't really any furniture in here except for the bed he got after moving in. He used to have his own bookshelf at Lars' but he never went back to get it. "Happy birthday," Even says, and he hands him the plate. 

Isak takes it and puts it on his lap. "Thank you," he says, and he hopes he's able to convey how grateful he is. 

"You're welcome," Even replies with a smile. He takes the poster and starts unrolling it. "No, wait. Close your eyes."

Isak does. 

"Okay, you can open them." 

He opens his eyes and they almost immediately widen at the sight in front of him. Even is standing there, looking so pleased with himself as he's holding a huge...Wayne Rooney poster. 

Isak is at loss for words, but there's a smile that takes over his face. 

"Is this for real?" he asks. 

Even pats the poster. "Hm, pretty sure it's real." 

Isak hides his face behind his hands for a moment, delighted but slightly embarrassed. He can feel against the palm of his hands how warm his cheeks are.

"You're into him, no?" Even asks playfully. 

"Oh my god, I'm not—he was just one of my favorite players, like years ago, okay? He's just—"

"He's great with...balls."

Isak glares at him.

Correction: Isak tries to glare at him, for a good half-second, but he can't, the muscles of his face won't allow it, they insist on letting the smile stay.

Isak probably made a comment while they watched a football match once, and Even had paid attention, had remembered, had thought of getting him this poster, and even as a joke—

Even thought of him. Thought of him and his birthday and also baked him a cake.

It's overwhelming, to think about Even thinking about him, about the fact that Isak crosses his mind sometimes. 

But. It doesn't mean that he can let himself be hopeful, hopeful that perhaps there's a chance Even might think— _feel_ about Isak the way Isak feels about him. He's not going to test this out, he's not going to attempt to find out. He's not taking the risk. 

They're  _roommates_  and they can't live under the same roof if Isak messes this up because of his unrequited feelings, if everything becomes awkward and weird because of him. 

It is difficult, liking him this much, but what they have right now is good nonetheless, and he doesn't want to ruin it, he doesn't want it to end. Having what they have now is endlessly better than not having it at all.

"I know this store where they sell all sorts of posters, for pretty cheap. We could go someday, if you'd like?" Even proposes, and he sounds careful, like he wants Isak to know that the choice is up to him.

He's always so considerate, sometimes Isak doesn't know how to handle it. "We could do that," he agrees.

 

They decide to slice up the cake in the kitchen, but Even insists on lighting up a candle before they do, though, says that Isak should make a wish first.  

Isak doesn't protest, although he can't quite make up his mind when it's time to blow out the candle, feels like there's too many wishes to make but also none at all. In the end, he thinks of Even who's by his side, and he goes for: 

_I hope this can stay good._

The cake is delicious, which doesn't come as a surprise, but even if it wasn't, even if it tasted like cardboard, Isak would've still cherished it.   

> _**Jonas Noah Vasquez** _
> 
> _Hey bday boy_
> 
> _Is Even coming tonight?_
> 
> _**Magnus** _
> 
> _Even_

It had been the most predictable thing, the boys taking an instant liking to Even the first time they came over to visit his new place. All of them going out together, though? Hanging out outside of the apartment? That's—

Different. That's taking things a step further, it feels, and Isak isn't sure he's ready, can already predict that it'll only make him yearn for more. 

It would be easy, technically, to not invite him, to not let him know that the boys asked if he was joining them, to tell them that Even is busy tonight. Isak doesn't want to, though, and it's not because he fears getting caught lying, it's that he doesn't want to tell lies to begin with, not when Even is concerned. 

"You wanna," he starts, after he's given himself a pep talk. "Like, go out with me and my friends later?" 

Even is taking another bite of cake, but his lips curve upward when Isak asks him. "Of course," he says. 

 

They get ready in the bathroom, later, and Isak manages to resist staring at him, but he still sees him comb his hair from the corner of his eyes, sees him take off his glasses to put his contact lenses on instead. He looks different, like this, Isak can tell, and for a moment he wishes he could look into his eyes, wishes he was allowed to. 

 

It's a great night, it always is with his friends. He's being offered drinks left and right and he's soon way past tipsy, but he's not able to let go, not completely. He's constantly aware of who he's surrounding himself with. He dances and laughs with Eva, and with Mahdi, and with Vilde, with anyone but with Even. Even who also seems to have a great time. Who's wearing this white t-shirt and these dark jeans that hug his body just right, that make it so easy to picture it underneath all the clothes, and Isak tries not to stare, not to stare, not to—

He's so fucking past tipsy. 

Even approaches Isak, eventually, and there's not enough time to grab Magnus' arm and pretend that he's suddenly really in the mood to dance with him, too.

"Hey," he says, and Isak isn't sure he was able to hear him over the loud throbbing music, or if it's just the fact that he remembers the exact sound of his voice, and he's able to imagine it perfectly. His skin is glistening slightly, because it's warm in here, and he's been dancing, and Isak figures that this is why Even opted for the contact lenses tonight.

"Midnight is in ten minutes," he says, pointing at his wrist. 

"Congrats on being able to read your watch," Isak replies, and he's impressed by how playful he's able to make it sound. 

Even rolls his eyes.

 _God_ , his eyes.

"Let's dance, before your birthday's over," he tells him, and this time he leans in, close enough that Isak can feel the words against his ear, and the hair on the back of his neck stand up, goosebumps traveling down his spine. 

Isak wants to shake his head but he also wants to give in, wants to make a step back but also wants to press himself closer.  

It's not like this actually means anything, he's danced with pretty much everyone at this point and it didn't  _mean_ anything. This isn't different. Except it is completely different, because he doesn't trust how his body will react to the closeness, with Even. 

There are all these things he can't control when they do start dancing. The way his heart picks up speed, the way his breathing becomes a little shaky when Even comes so close and he's all he's able to smell, the slight tremor in his hand as he feels the urge to reach out, and touch, the way his lips remain parted as he feels the urge to reach out, and taste. 

The song lasts for a lifetime, and it's over in the blink of an eye. 

Isak remembers where he is, who he is, who he's with. He closes his mouth, swallows thickly. When he looks up, his eyes meet Even's, and his pupils are dilated, but it's dark in here, it's just normal bodily reaction. It doesn't mean anything. 

When they leave, they share a cab with Mahdi and Isak closes his eyes and pretends to sleep during the whole ride. He listens to them talk, and there's this ache pulsing through him, because of the way he talks, how he's still so fun and kind, even with the sleepiness in his voice (especially with it). Because of how well he seems to fit into his life. 

They get home and Isak mumbles  _good night_ and Even says it back and they both head to their room.

And when Isak is in his bed, it's too easy to remember the closeness, to remember the edges and curves of his face, of his body, and the way it moved. It's too easy to picture it all, so vividly he can almost feel it. 

He doesn't want to do this; it's the one thing that has remained forbidden to this day. It has to stay this way, he can't cross this line. 

He tells himself that it's his birthday, that today's an exception, that it makes it meaningless and okay, but the rational voice still awake in the back of his mind knows that it's complete bullshit, that it's not even his birthday anymore. 

Still, it's images of Even he sees behind his closed eyelids when he slides a hand inside his boxers. A part of him wants it to be disappointing, wants some semblance of proof that it wouldn't feel so great, anyway. Another part wants it to be amazing, the best it could be, since he's only going to do this once, just tonight. 

In the end, the second part gets what it wished for.

The release helps him fall asleep, but other than that it doesn't really help at all.  

The ache is still there. 

***

He starts a new job at a pharmacy a week later, and with Even also working a full-time job and their schedules not coinciding, they see less and less of each other. 

They haven't done Tuesday movie nights in three weeks. 

Things are mostly the same, however, when they do interact. Even's still...

Even. 

He comes home from his shift one evening, and quickly greets Isak who's playing FIFA in the living room. He then disappears into his room for a little while, and comes back wearing fitted jeans and a light blue dress shirt. 

(Isak stops paying attention to the match, and the opposing team scores a goal.) 

"Hm, glasses or no glasses? What do you think?" 

Isak frowns. "What do you mean?" 

"With this," Even says, gesturing at his outfit, and then taking his glasses off. "What looks better?" 

Questions rush through Isak's mind, the loudest being:  _what is this outfit for? Why is he trying to make sure he looks good?_

He already suspects the answers, tries to shove them away, but it hurts, already. Fuck, it already hurts and he doesn't even have confirmation yet. 

"What for?" he asks, because he might as well get it over with, rip off the bandage. His whole body tenses up, hand holding his controller a little too tight, like he's expecting a blow, like he's preparing for it. "I mean, it depends on the occasion." 

Even scratches the bridge his nose. "A guy at work wants to, hm, set me up with a friend of his," he says. 

Isak doesn't budge, not physically. "Oh, hm." 

He wants to get up and leave, but even if that wouldn't make him look like the biggest weirdo on Earth, he wouldn't be able to—he's stuck in place. 

 _With glasses_ , Isak thinks, because he's had a soft spot for them since day one, and because Even wears them most of the time, except when he's filming or when he goes out clubbing, apparently, so they're a part of him, and whoever he's meeting up tonight should know that, if they don't already, and if they're not into glasses, then fuck them. 

(Isak apologizes in his head for saying  _fuck them_ to Even's date. That was unfairly rude.) 

"The glasses look nice, I think," he tells him. 

Even offers him a small smile. "Thanks," he says. "I need to clean them, though." 

"Wait," Isak says, as Even brings one of the lenses close to his mouth. "I got you, hm. Wait a sec." He stands up and goes to his room, where he takes a moment to just  _breathe_ , before he takes what he's looking for from his backpack. 

"You mentioned running out of it the other morning," he says, as he hands him a small bottle of lens cleaner that's also packaged with a small cloth. He had gotten it for him the next day at the pharmacy. 

Even looks at it for a moment, like he's deliberating. 

"You didn't have to," he says, at last, almost whispers the words. 

Isak bites the inside of his lip. "I know I didn't."

 

A few minutes later, Even is gone, but he's still omnipresent in Isak's head.

He stays in the living room, but none of his video games manages to properly distract him, and he's just not in the mood to play anymore. He lies down on the couch, decides to rewatch the Cosmos series on Netflix instead. There's this folded blanket at his feet, at the other end of the couch. It's the one Even covers himself with when he watches movies, and it's always here, even now that it's summer and he doesn't really use it anymore. 

It's both pathetic and useless, Isak's only doing this because he craves him, misses the things they have together and the things they don't, and not at all because he's cold. He wraps Even's blanket around himself and breathes it in. He closes his eyes halfway through the second episode, falls asleep shortly after. 

He hears steps. 

Steps. Someone.  _Even_. 

Shit. 

He quickly sits up, but it's too late, because Even's already standing there, looking in his direction, at Isak who's sitting on their couch with his blanket half-covering him. He feels so warm, and yet the hairs on his arms are standing up. 

"You're here," he says, voice slightly groggy, more a question than a statement. He checks the time on his phone. "It's just 20:30." 

Even nods, and there's this seriousness to his face, that shouldn't be there after someone comes home from a good date. And Isak has the feeling that it  _wasn't_ a good one, because he's home so early, and he's looking like this and there's no doubt in Isak's mind: Even's date was an unworthy, undeserving asshole, who didn't realize how lucky they were to get to have dinner with him, and they're stupid, and a dozen other insults, too. 

He sighs.

Even comes to sit on the couch, and Isak's heart rate increases despite himself. But this isn't about him, and his own feelings. It seems that Even's date didn't go so well, and Isak likes him so much, yes, but that's not what he wishes for him, he—

He wishes for him to be happy, no matter the circumstances, no matter who it's with. 

"Do you, hm, want to watch something?" he suggests. 

Even's face lights up a little as he nods, and the Cosmos series had some pretty spectacular images, but this is the nicest thing he's seen all night. 

"I'll go get changed," Even says. 

"I'll go make popcorn," Isak says, because he knows how to make it, now. Even's taught him. 

Isak proposes they watch The King's Speech, because he thinks it's a really nice feel-good movie, and so they do, the bowl of popcorn between them. 

They both reach for the popcorn at some point, and it's not the first time it's ever happened, and normally one of them will immediately move his hand away, and they never mention it. This time, though, their hands stay where they are, Even's palm against the back of Isak's hand. 

Isak dares to look at him, tentatively, and when he does, he catches Even looking back. His pupils are dilated, but it's not even dark in the room. 

He strokes the side of Isak's hand with his thumb, and his eyes look down at Isak's lips, and then he's just staring at them.

 _Oh_.  

Isak is filled with want, wants to close the distance, once and for all, but then there's also fear, settling in his stomach, and doubts filling his mind. 

They win. 

Even is the one who leans in, but Isak turns his head away, takes back his hand. 

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I thought—I'm sorry." 

"I like you so much," Isak confesses, and there's a weight lifted off his chest as he finally says the words, but it's quickly replaced by another one, because the truth is out there, now, and he can never take it back. He closes his eyes, shaking his head. "But I don't want to—you just came home from a date, and I don't want to be like some sort of rebound, or a second option. I can't—do that."

"That's not—"

"Even," he says, almost pleads.

And that's the end of it, for tonight. Isak goes to his room without looking back and Even lets him without saying a word. 

He can't fall asleep when he lies in his bed, because of the little nap he took while Even was gone, and mostly because—

Because of what just happened. 

Even had wanted to  _kiss_ him, but it was after he came home from seeing someone else. He might have kissed that person he went out with, instead, if their date had gone well, and he wouldn't have wanted to kiss Isak if it had. 

There's a chance, a high one, that this would've been a one-time thing, had Isak let him kiss him. It's not something Isak thinks he could handle, getting to have this only to lose it, not when he wants it so much to begin with.

But this— _thing_  happened tonight, undeniably, and it can never be erased from their memories. Things are changed, now, but he'll have to wait until tomorrow to be able to assess just how much they have.

Two, three, four hours pass and Isak finds himself still wanting it all just as much, and still unable to sleep.

***

Isak doesn't really want to leave his room, the next morning, but he knows it'll only make things worse if he purposely locks himself here. So, he eventually gets out.

Even is already in the kitchen, by the sink, washing the dishes. 

"Hey," Isak greets him. 

"Oh, hey," Even quickly replies, voice a pitch higher than usual. "Do you want a cup of coffee?" he asks, and he seems a little apprehensive, like the question and its answer are somehow important. 

Isak nods. "Sure," he says. 

Even lets out a sigh and smiles. Isak hears and sees relief. He dries his hand and takes Isak's usual mug from the cupboard, pours the coffee and adds just the right amount of sugar and milk. Isak gets this comforting sense of déjà vu. 

"Thank you," he says. 

Even sits down at the table, on the chair to his left, and soon, Isak can feel it: the tension, all the unspoken words weighing heavy in the air. 

"Last night," Even begins, and Isak's thankful he doesn't have to break the ice. "I didn't really get the chance to, hm, explain. And if you don't mind, I'd like to." 

"Okay," Isak says. 

Even chews on his bottom lip a little. "I like you too," he says. "You said you liked me, and I like you too. That's the first thing I wanted to tell you."

They've only started this conversation and Isak's heart is already hammering in his chest.

"I've liked you for a while, I think," he says. "I know," he then corrects. "But I'm not the best, at not messing things up, and we live together, so—you know?" 

"I know," Isak says. He does. 

"I don't know why I thought it could be a good idea, when Alex wanted to set me up with his friend. Like, 'Oh, maybe it's for the best, and I can move on', or something." He looks at Isak for a moment, as though trying to study his reaction. "And when I told you I was going, I tried to convince myself that, like, I don't know— that maybe you'd look like you didn't mind, in a way, and that there wouldn't be anything, on your part."

"There  _was_  something," Isak then says, determination suddenly rushing through him.  _There's been something all along_. "There is." 

"I know, and I kept thinking about you," he whispers, like it's a confession. "Nils, hm, the guy, was great, objectively. He was nice, and fun." 

(Isak apologizes in his head for insulting him last night.) 

"But he wasn't you, and I kept wanting him to be you, which wasn't fair, and I had to tell him, when he wanted to, hm, kiss me, because I—" He stops, glancing down at Isak's mouth. "I just thought of kissing you, instead, and I thought..."

"You thought?"

"I thought... _wow_."

"Wow?"

Even nods. "Wow."

It's charming, and endearing, and Isak melts a little, gentle warmth radiating everywhere in his body. Still, he needs to know—

"Are you sure?" he asks. "I can't do it, if you're not. And if you need a moment, to be sure, that's fine, totally, but I just—I need you to be sure."

"I am," he replies immediately, without hesitation. 

Even reaches for Isak's hand, tentatively, and Isak watches it happen, watches as Even's hand ends up covering his. 

"Last night, you, hm, said that you didn't want to be a second option, and I just want you to know that you never were," he says. "You could never be." 

Isak meets his eyes, sees the sincerity in them, and it's Even, sitting next to him, holding his hand, telling him these words, and—

Isak is propelled by an invisible force, it seems, when he does close the distance between their mouths, this time. It's rushed and he feels breathless, at first, because he can't do anything but this, kiss him, kiss him,  _kiss him, finally_. He grabs a fistful of his hair, and it's a damn crime, that he never got to touch it before, to feel how soft it is. 

Even kisses back eagerly, licking into his mouth and sighing through his nose, like he's been longing for this, too. Isak can feel his glasses against his nose, sometimes, but he doesn't mind, because it's him, and Isak wants everything. 

Isak tries to press himself closer, but them sitting on two different chairs isn't the most convenient thing, and when he does, his chair almost topples over. 

"Shit," he mumbles. 

Even's lips are a little puffy and red, but they're also smiling. He looks happy, it makes Isak happy. 

"Say something," Isak says.

Even cups his cheek, and with his thumb, he traces Isak's lips, and then the bridge of his nose, the arch of his eyebrow. "Wow," he says.

A laugh, the really happy kind, escapes him, and Even echoes it, before he leans in and presses their lips together again. 

And they take it to the living room, instead, kissing on the way there, and Even sits on the couch— _their_  couch—and Isak sits in his lap. It's almost exhilarating, but Isak feels soothed, too, and there's this wave of calmness that washes over him, removing almost all traces of fear and uncertainty. 

He's kissing this guy in this place that he dares to call home, because being here, here with him,  _feels_ like home, and he also can't help but feel like, maybe—

Maybe he fell for the right guy, this time.   

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi, thank you so much for reading   
> hopefully monday was a good day for you all, and the rest of the week will be as well :) 
> 
> [here's](http://skamz.tumblr.com) my tumblr :) (i haven't been active there lately, but i'll try to change that)


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